


All for the Mission

by MagicalDragon



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Bisexual John Constantine, Bottom John Constantine, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Magic, Under-negotiated Kink, essentially - see prior tag, ollie is straight in this tho if you want mlm ollie this isnt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalDragon/pseuds/MagicalDragon
Summary: “The antidote is sex, mate,” John admitted once he was standing just in front of Oliver. “One of the ingredients in this powder is incubus horn, and that’s not for nothing.”Oliver just stared at him for a moment."You're fucking with me.”"No, I'm notfucking with you," John said in a bad imitation of Oliver's accent. "Well, not yet, anyway…"
Relationships: John Constantine/Oliver Queen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	All for the Mission

On an otherwise uneventful tuesday morning, Oliver Queen had shown up on John’s doorstep, asking for help with retrieving an artefact. The League of Assassins was trying to get to it, he said, so they had to get there first. Oliver hadn’t even been clear on what, exactly, the artefact was, but he knew it was magical, and that the protections set up around it were likely to be so, as well. John complained because he was a gobby shite that way, but honestly, he didn’t want a magical artefacts in the hand of The League of Assassins any more than Oliver did. 

Oliver had tracked the artefact to the dungeon of an abandoned Polish castle. Once they made their way in and towards the dungeon area, John started to realise what might await them at the end of this journey.

“Look at that,” he said, pointing to the gable above the stairs. “That there, that’s a symbol of destruction, and the one next to it, with the cross, that’s a symbol of rebirth…” 

Oliver considered the symbols. 

“Do you think they’re trying to find a new way to revive people, a way that doesn’t require the Lazarus Pit?” 

“Very likely, although…”

“What?”

“The Lazarus Pit… The Lazarus Pit restores life to a dead body, it heals flesh but doesn’t restore the spirit, but this… I’m not sure, but I reckon… I think this revives the dead by killing the living. An eye for an eye, a soul for a soul...”

Oliver hummed darkly, then started walking down the stairs. 

“We had better find this before The League of Assassins does…”

“Agreed.”

They continued down the stairs for a bit, narrowly avoiding a dodgy step and a tripwire that would have send a couple of crossbow bolts through them, before they entered the dungeon itself. Once there, John started chanting a tracking spell. All Oliver had dug up was that the artefact was somewhere down here, they needed more to go on — there was no reason to stumble around the entire castle underground. While working on his tracking spell, John vaguely began to realise that magical barriers covered each of the doors leading further into the dungeon. 

“Oliver, wait a—” 

But Oliver had already walked ahead, right through the barrier. Immediately, a thick cloud of white powder was spat into his face. Oliver coughed violently, then fell to the ground with a groan of pain.

“Bollocks,” John said to himself, before hurrying over to dispel the barrier.

It hardly mattered now, of course. Oliver had already been covered in the stuff, and it was clear he was feeling the effects. A bit of powder was stuck to the wall opposite of where it had been spat out from and John turned to examine it. He shot a glance back at Oliver while during so, and saw him dragging himself off to the side. He almost fell into the wall as he sat down, doing his best to look like he was not in pain. The effort of it was as obvious as any pained expression would have been, however.

John turned back to examine the powder, saying a short enchantment over it to detect its contents. Bollocks… the ingredients, mixed with Oliver’s reaction… Venus Powder. John had encountered it twice before. Nasty stuff, if you weren’t hanging about with someone you wanted to shag anyway — and who wanted to shag you. 

“So, bad news, love,” John yelled over his shoulder. “This is Venus powder. Puts your body in a world of pain for about two days, might give you a nasty fever, definitely not the type of thing you just shrug off… Unless…”

“Unless what? What am I with a warlock for, if you don’t know the antidote?”

John cursed under his breath and started walking back towards Oliver. 

“The antidote is sex, mate,” John admitted once he was standing just in front of Oliver. “One of the ingredients in this powder is incubus horn, and that’s not for nothing.”

Oliver just stared at him for a moment. 

"You're fucking with me.”

"No, I'm not _fucking with you_ ," John said in a bad imitation of Oliver's accent. "Well, not yet, anyway…"

Oliver looked vaguely disturbed. John sighed again. 

"Calm down, alright? You said it yourself, I’m a warlock, I'm know what I'm doing. On both counts really, being bi, an’ all."

That did not make Oliver look any calmer.

"What?"

John rolled his eyes. 

"I'm saying it's not my first time giving a cheeky handy in less than optimal conditions, alright?"

Bloody hell. He should have emphasised the part where this was for the mission… That was all Oliver cared about anyway, wasn’t it? Definitely shouldn’t have mentioned his sexuality, fuck’s sake. Straight men went all funny about that sort of thing, and Oliver wasn’t just hetero, he was Straight with an uppercase-S. Well, maybe that wasn’t fair — it wasn’t like he and Oliver knew each other _that_ well. Oliver gave off that vibe, at least. He really ought to tone that down, if he didn’t want a bloke to make assumptions. Anyway, where were they?

"Look, mate, if you're alright with giving up your big, important mission, it's no skin off my back. We can go back, send someone else to secure the relic, let you get to your girlfriend in the meantime, I’m not here to make that decision for ya.”

Oliver gritted his teeth. It was hard to tell if it was in pain or frustration. John figured both were probably having their share of impact.

"This mission is too important for that," Oliver said, predictably.

John shrugged helpless. He found himself rifling through his pockets for a fag, but stopped when he realised what he was doing. Bad timing.

"Well, then I'm sorry to say, mate, but I don't know any way of getting that stuff out of ya that don't involve some kind of shagging — and I'm the only one here."

"Couldn't I just—"

"Rub one out? Nah, sorry, mate. Tried that, once. The whole point of this stuff is that it wants to spread to other people, no way to trick it." 

For a long moment, Oliver just stared at him, his face infuriatingly stoic. Ever so _manly_. John almost found himself wishing he'd been stuck with one of the Waverider idiots, instead. Nate seemed like the type of guy who was open to a few things, Ray was so easy-going that he’d probably just accept it as his lot in life and Mick, well… he might not think there was anything gay about it if he topped, really. Seemed the type. Prison an’ all. It'd still have been awkward as fuck, of course, but potentially easier to get on with. Hell, if it'd been Gary, it wouldn't even have had to awkward. No more awkward than Gary made everything by just being Gary, anyway.

"Fine," Oliver said, looking less than thrilled.

Bloody hell… been a long time since someone looked _that_ disappointed about the prospect of shagging John.

"Well…" John shrugged. "How you wanna do this, then?"

Oliver tried to shrug, but instead his upper body cramped up in pain.

"It's not like I'm an expert in gay sex here," Oliver said, his voice strained with pain. The powder was really taking effect now.

"S’not like it has to be any different than straight sex, mate. Just close your eyes and think of tits."

Oliver gritted his teeth again.

"I don't care how you do it, just get _on_ with it."

"Cheers," John snarked, but then set about his business. He snuck a hand down Oliver's pants and started rhythmically rubbing his half-hard cock.

"Just so you know, right," John said while he did his best to bring Oliver's cock to attention. "Once you're proper aroused, you might lose control a bit, the powder does that an’ all. Don't worry about me, though, I'm used to a bit of rough, won't do me no harm." 

Oliver nodded, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. Bloody hell, maybe he really _was_ trying to imagine John was some bird. Whether Oliver was or not, John’s hand did seem to be doing the job alright. John wasn’t sure whether a handy would be enough for this type of magic, though. Sex magic could be finicky about what it accepted as sex, all so bound up in who cast the initial spell or what ingredients were involved. 

“Oliver, mate, I’m going to pull off your pants a bit, alright?” 

Oliver just nodded, his eyes still closed, head laid back against the stone wall behind him. He sure made for a picture that way. John did as he’d said he would, pulled it all down till Oliver’s cock was free, then he dropped his head and started sucking on the head. God, this was going to knacker his back. Above him, Oliver was beginning to seem more present, his breath hitched when John took more of him in his mouth, and soon a hand was buried roughly in John’s hair. Here came the loss of control, then. John had been on the other side of this, last time, so he had some sympathy for it, even if the angle Oliver was forcing him to work from was really hurting his neck. 

For a while, that was all it was. Oliver had an iron grip in John’s hair that put his neck at an odd angle, but it was all pretty workable, apart from that. But once Oliver started to get closer, the pain started to leave him while the sex mania only increased in force. Oliver sat up on his knees, dragging John’s head along with him, and started thrusting roughly into John’s mouth, in a way that would have made a less experienced man gag. John almost did, truth be told, but he shifted his entire focus to avoiding it and narrowly did so. Oliver sounded obscene, now, and if he was being honest, John was beginning to feel rather aroused by this whole situation, as well. Which probably said a thing or two about him, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know about that, already. 

Finally, Oliver came. A nonsensical shout was all the warning John got, but he took it in stride. It was probably better this way, anyway, magic-wise. He thought. Bugger knows. Sex magic was a bloody weird field. 

After he’d cum, Oliver finally let go of John’s hair. John dropped to the floor to cough violently. Bloody hell, it’d been a while since he’d done this kind of thing… Well, depending on how you defined things, he supposed. It’d been a while since he’d been facefucked by someone who wasn’t _quite_ aware how rough they were being. Last time, he’d still been in Liverpool, and the fella had been affected by a far more mundane substance. As for the magic part, well… it actually _hadn’t_ been very long since he’d last done sex magic, although last time had involved far better sex. 

It was a shame, really. The whole thing had left him hard, and his sex-addled brain kept thinking about getting Oliver’s cock up his arse. Unlikely to happen, though, and probably wouldn’t have gone very well if it had. John could have conjured some lube, easy, but didn’t mean a half-crazed Oliver would have done a particularly good job of it. John was just going to have to find himself another bloke to do that job, next time the opportunity presented itself. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry…” Oliver started saying, offering John a hand up. 

John shook his head and got up on his own. 

“No worries, love,” he said, a bit hoarsely. “Just how the bloody thing works, innit? Let’s find that artefact.” 

Oliver still looked absolutely mortified about the whole thing, but he nodded and attempted to school his face back into stoicism — a feat that might have been easier if his entire face hadn’t been beet red. 

They did find that artefact, in the end. Oliver made sure to stay well behind John after the Venus Powder incident, letting him check for any magical traps on their way before walking ahead. The artefact was a little box, as it turned out. A golden box covered in Latin. Seemed early Christian, maybe. Not that John was an expert at dating artefacts, or even spells. He knew a bit of everything, used whatever might be effective, didn’t mean he was an expert in the history of the different traditions. He ought to pull on a few of his contacts, get them to weigh in… although putting it out there that he had something so powerful on his hands might not be a good move. 

“I’m keeping this,” Oliver said, as if he’d somehow been following John’s stream of thoughts. 

“You what?” 

“People won’t suspect that this is in my possession. Think about it, getting in there required magic,” Oliver said, gesturing vaguely towards the castle behind them. “Once people realise this thing is gone, they’ll assume someone who knows magic has it.”

“Oh, so you’re sending me home as a suspect with nothing to show for it?” John summarised. “Cheers for that.” 

“Keeping it out of the hands of The League of Assassins is not nothing.”

John rolled his eyes and got out a cigarette. 

“I suppose it’s not.” John lit the cigarette and took a drag “See you around, then, mate.” 

He began walking off without waiting for a reply. He heard one, a few steps later.

“See you, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a dream. I blame hormones lol


End file.
